B15

Have you ever met anyone that said,

"I love going to the dentist so much!"

...I haven't either.

Some people don't mind the dentist; for others it is a very stressful, very high anxiety situation that will be avoided at all costs.

Let's just say I absolutely mind going to the dentist, and I would go as far as to say that I HATE going.

 And yes, I know that hate is a very strong word!

I had a horrible dentist in my late childhood years, he was the biggest douche EVER.

For eva eva? Yes for eva eva. He will be a douche FOREVER.

He was an older gentlemen, and I think I remember him being Indian. 

That has nothing to do with the story, but I feel as though it is pertinent information.

The only good memory I have of going to that dentist was that my sister and I would sing The Sound of Music songs to each other from opposites sides of the dentist office while we were waiting for them to clean our teeth.

Yep, it is funny. And it was fun too! 

The hills really were alive with the sound of music.

While that is one fun memory I will keep with me forever, I absolutely positively hate the dentist with all my being.

 The sound of them scraping my teeth makes me want to proj-vom. 

And that is NOT easy when someone is literately all up in yo grill! 

And shots in the mouth? I don't like any kinds of shots, even if they are presented to me in a shot glass instead of a needle in my face. NO THANKS!

I put off going to the dentist for many years, 

which is not one of my best choices I have ever had.

I started going to this spa dentist that my stepdad goes to, but needless to say I never stuck around for the spa-like amenities because I was ready to get the HELL out of there as SOON as my appointment was over. 

Why would I want to dip my hands in paraffin wax and sit in a dark room at a dentist office? It's still a dentist office, even if they are playing relaxing music in a dark room with a massage chair pretending like they're not a dentist office. 

They are. And that's no where that I want to be.

I've never had a dentist with a positive attitude, either. 

What's up with that? 

They would always make me feel like all my teeth were going to fall out of my head or something. And honestly, if that ever happened, my life would seriously be oh-ver. 

Talk about a nightmare come true. 

Speaking of that, do you ever have dreams where your teeth fall out of your head? They're so realistic, and so freaking scary.

Anyway, so my last dentist wasn't THAT bad, but it was really far away, and it was still a dentist even though they try and distract you with a warm neck wrap and a TV right up in your face. I would rather go to jury duty or the DMV.

A few months ago I had an unfortunate encounter with a piece of Double Bubble that obviously wanted to ruin my life, because it ripped one of my fillings clear out of my head. And you know what happens when a filling gets ripped out of your head? 

YOU HAVE TO GO TO THE DENTIST. 

The exact thing that I had been avoiding for months on end. 

In fact, it was around my one year anniversary of ditching my last dentist appointment that it happened. I had an appointment all scheduled and ready to go sometime in October, but then my sister was about to have her baby and that was the PERFECT out.

Sorry, I can't come to my appointment because my sister may be having a baby soon and I need to keep my schedule clear. I'll just call and reschedule, like never.

 (I always had to book in advance, leave super early to get there, and waiting in the car was simply not an option. Why? Because it was much easier to throw the car in REVERSE and get the HELL out of there. If I had already checked in and was waiting inside the office, it's a lot more sketch looking to just up and leave, because they KNOW that you are there.)

Needless to say, I never rescheduled that appointment.

I bet that dentist put an evil spell on me that MADE my filling fall out...

Just so I would come back.

 Maybe not, but it still sucked. 

It's not like where the filling fell out hurt or anything, so I put off going to get it fixed for a very long time. 

Longer than I would like to admit. 

[about 4 months]

That would bring us to Friday afternoon, when my tooth started hurting like a MF.

It wasn't a sharp pain, it's not sensitive to cold or sweets, but just a dull aching pain that made me want to cut my face off. 

So, what did I have to do? Make a dentist appointment.

 The first time available? 7:30AM on a Saturday.

I hate waking up early on the weekends, and waking up early on a Saturday for a dentist appointment that I had clearly been avoiding was NOT what I wanted to be doing.

Not to mention that it was RAINING and COLD. GROSS. 

Alright, so I get to the dentist office right on time, which means about two minutes late, thanks to my wonderful iPhone for leading me about 1 mile in the wrong direction.

At this point the anxiety really hasn't set in, and it honestly was kind of confusing me as to why I didn't get the sudden urge just to bypass the dentist, bust a U-Turn and head back home to the warm bed and pajamas I had abandoned too soon. 

My tooth didn't even hurt anymore! 

But I went in, filled out all the paperwork (and by all I mean one paper) and waited. Luckily, the wait wasn't very long, because let's just be honest people weren't really waiting in line to book a Saturday morning dentist appointment.

I had to get all my X-Rays redone since I was new to the office. 

What is UP with those tooth X-Rays things? 

I mean come on it's freaking 2012. 

We can't make different sizes for those little rectangular plastic pieces that never fit in my mouth and make me want to gag? 

I'm sitting there on probably around the 7th X-Ray, I'm slightly annoyed, but who wouldn't be after you just had six pieces of too-big-for-your-mouth X-Ray slides (or whatever they're called) shoved in your face over and over again?  

I'm honestly surprised the roof of my mouth didn't start bleeding or something, because it felt like it was going to explode after about the third one.

What could possibly make this situation worse, you ask?!

That stupid Foster the People "Pumped up Kicks" song, that's what.

I hate that song so freaking much, every time it comes on the radio I get the sudden urge to either 

A. Punch my radio 

B. Open the car door and jump out on the highway

I hate that song so much I seriously can feel it in my soul. 

Don't ask me why, because I really don't know why, but that mixed with the sitchie I was in made me want to kick a puppy in to traffic. But then again it was 7:30AM on a Saturday so THERE WASN'T MUCH TRAFFIC! 

I honestly would've rather been giving birth, and that's saying a lot.

So, Dr. Shakespear (and YES that IS his real name I SWEAR!) reviews my X-Rays and takes a little looksie in my mouth. He tells me I have really nice teeth, and it took everything in me to say 'Thanks, I grew them myself." But I didn't, I just said 'Thanks' but it kind of sounded like "Thxksnlksdfnxcmnv" because he had that metal tool-of-death in my mouth at the time. Why do dentists talk to you when their hands and tools crammed in your mouth, as if you could respond and not sound like a deaf person? I don't know. 

I lived through the appointment, and even scheduled another to fix the filling that fell out of my head. 

I'm 23 now but will I ever see 24 the way things are going I-DONT-KNOW... 

I have another appointment four days before my birthday so we will find out.

B14

It is merely coincidence that B14 falls on Valentine's Day, I swear.

The only thing that I ever plan to do on Valentine's Day is not celebrate Valentine's Day.

There are two kinds of people in this world:

Those who celebrate V-Day and those who do not.

A lot of people seriously love VD, and a lot of people seriously hate the fact that they don't participate in VD, and that's because the reason they don't participate is not by choice.

I am on the not celebrating side, but it is merely by choice.
 I mean it's not like I'm not totally awesome and pretty. 

(because I totally am)

I say that, but I know a lot of totally awesome and pretty people that want to be celebrating that aren't. I don't mean to sound bitchy; I feel bad.

I really am sorry for your loss.

I am lucky enough to have an amazing manfriend that shows me that he loves me all the time; reserving a day to do so just seems a little ridiculous to me. 

Why reserve one day when there so many of them in a year?

I've never been one for all the cheesy-romance-type-stuff, which is probably why I choose not to participate. So don't judge me, hatas! 

Today I wore a sparkly shirt to work, but that's only because I love sparkles.

I love sparkles every day, not just February 14. Everyday. 365 of them. 
366 if it's a leap year, which this year there is an extra day for sparkles! 

I didn't even think about the fact that my coworkers would correlate my sparkles with VD, because that totally was not my intention.

 That would be like an Atheist wearing a "Merry Christmas" sweater on Christmas.

Get real people. That's just weird.

Since this is a day that is supposed to be focused on love and all, I will be honest.

I do love a lot of things, and one thing I supa-dupa-love is food.

Who doesn't? Have you ever met someone who was all, "I don't love food?"

If you have, please send them my way because they clearly aren't doing it right.

[that's what she said]

Everyone loves food. Some more than others, and I would fall in that "more than others" category. I know it may seem like false advertisement because I am skinny and was blessed with a high metabolism and good DNA, but I seriously love to eat. All the time.

For example, instead of reserving one day to celebrate how much I love food, I choose to celebrate that everyday. EVERY. DAY.

Today I ate a footlong sandwich for lunch, but not on purpose. 

(not my proudest moment, but it was SO FREAKING GOOD!)

[If you were wondering, it was a turkey sandwich on that 9-grain honey oat bread from Subway. God, that shit is delicious. I am a sucker for the Februany deal. $5 footlong?! OKAY!! How could I not?! It's just getting has been ridiculous, I'm always thinking I will "save the other half for later" but who am I kidding?! I never do.]

In my first bloblog ever I mentioned how I had gotten the sudden urge to act all domesticated and start cooking. And cooking is exactly what I have done!

I must say, I am actually really good at it, but this is one thing that I cannot take full credit for; my family is filled with great cooks, and when a girl is armed with a Pinterest app AND Google, what could possibly go wrong?

Plenty. But in my case, it has been more going right than wrong, thankfully.

This is the perfect hobby for someone who loves food as much as I do.

I really love bananas. And I really love chocolate. 

So I decided the other day it would be fun to make some chocolate covered bananas.

This was the final result: 

If you weren't in the mood for VDay before, I hope my chocolate covered bananas do the trick. That is, if you were wanting to participate in VD, if not then it is good for a laugh.

 It was not my intention to have them turn out looking like chocolate covered penises, I swear. It is hilarious though, my dad used to make chocolate covered bananas all the time and I don't EVER remember them looking like THAT. 

I had some chocolate left over, so I also made some chocolate covered Oreos as well.

Yep, you know what happened after that.

If you decide that making chocolate covered banana penises would be a fun VDay activity for you and your loved ones, my only suggestion is to freeze the bananas prior to the dipping, and keep them in the freezer once they are done. 

If you don't, you'll have a mushy mess inside a hard chocolate shell, and let's just be honest, nobody likes that.

B13

Another weekend come and gone. Why do they go so fast?!

Not FAIR! Booooooo :(

So, Friday night I had my BFF date with Carah and as always it was a good time.

We went to dinner and then saw The Vow with Rachel McAdams and Channing Tatum. 

I'm no movie critic, but I do watch movies sometimes, and I thought it was pretty good. 

I don't want to ruin the story for any of you planning to see it, so I won't say much more about it, except that Rachel McAdams is SO pretty and Channing Tatum is alright.

On Saturday we found a replacement for our fallen homie, Tractor Fish.

Instead of going full on crypt like Reese had initially planned, he had a last minute change of heart and went with a fish that looks almost exactly like TF.

 Not creepy at all.

New fish's name? Fish Bird. Yeah, that's what I said too.

 But whatevies, it's what the boss wanted.

I also put Reese's big boy bed back together again, after I disassembled it shortly after putting it together in the first place six months ago.

 I thought he was ready, was he ready? He was not. 

It was much more realistic to keep him contained in a bed with walls. 

I now remember how much of a pain in my freaking ass putting that bed together was. After some F-Bombs and a minor freak out thirty minutes into attempting to screw this piece on, I realized I was using a screw about three inches too short.

That was my own fault. The fact that the screws didn't line up? NOT MY FAULT! I seriously couldn't even comprehend why they wouldn't line up, when I just put this stupid bed together not too long ago and it all worked out fine. 

Annoying. I'm getting pissed just thinking about it!

 It's a good thing you can't look at the bed itself and see the pain and suffering that went into putting it together, because Reese probably wouldn't even want to sleep in it.

A bed of pissed-offness. LOL.

I will never ever put that bed together ever again.

 Mark my word, it's for the best people.

Saturday I also spent most of the day cleaning and working on the four months of laundry that has somehow mysteriously piled up in my hamper. 

Now my apartment is all nice and organized, and I feel much so better.

 I used to be a supa neat freak, back in 2007 BR (before Reese)

but over time that has gradually turned into the inability to pick up after myself. 

WTF? 

It's horrible, I need to break that habit as quick as a crack addict. 

RIP Whitney Houston.

Tonight Reese and I went on a mom/son date to the Stars game. 

[that would be hockey, for all my non-Dallas viewers]

Reese seriously LOVES hockey, probably just as much as he loves Boom Boom Pow, which has been his favorite song since it first came out. 

Yes, three years ago. Shoot me, Please? 

Ever listened to the Black Eyed Peas on repeat for two hours straight? I don't blame you. 

If I could go back to March 2009 when that godforsaken song was released and beg/plead with Fergie and her posse to NOT release it, you bet I would. 

It has been Reese's favorite song ever since (proj-vom).

 Back to hockey.

My little bundle of joy actually hasn't been feeling very well this weekend, and earlier today I actually doubted if we were even going to make it to the game.

Apparently, Motrin+Hockey=Perfectly Fine Child,

 because I never would have guessed by the way he was dancing around in circles entertaining everyone that he felt even remotely ill.

Yep, he's definitely a man folks.

If I could take Reese to a hockey game every time he felt sick rather than to the doctor, it would be much more fun and actually probably the same price if not cheaper.

For some reason his doctor has only been prescribing medications with no generic. 

That=EXPENSIVE. WTF?

Also, a hockey game makes for some cute photo-taking. 

Can you take pics at a doctors office? Not without being creepy, and you sure as shit can't post those on Facebook.

When we first got there, Reesey-Piece wanted some popcorn and a drink.

 I never knew the kid liked popcorn, but apparently he does because he ate almost half of that huge ass tub by himself. I personally am not a fan of popcorn, so while I wasn't thrilled about buying a tub almost as big as he is knowing he was not going to even come remotely close to finishing it...I did. See Below.

In addition to eating almost his entire body weight in popcorn, he also drank a "small" Sprite, and by "small" they mean 32 ounces.

 What happens when a three year old drinks a 32 oz drink, you ask?

They turn into Mr. Pregnant Pants, having to go to the bathroom every 20 minutes. Fun.

Luckily, my loving manfriend thought about this in advance and we had aisle seats. 

Win!

Reese definitely entertained everyone around us the entire time, including me.

Hockey game and a show? Yeah, you're welcome.

I am SO lucky to have such an awesome child, really. 

I don't know how I got so lucky, I really don't, but people tell me how lucky I am all the time.

 It's probably because I am so cool, 

and my coolness is genetic so Reese inherited it from me.

Reese is such a well behaved boy, not to mention he's just so much fun to be around.

 I would much rather have strangers ask me 

"Your kid is awesome! Can I have him?"

 [in a non-kidnapper type of way, of course]

 than for people to be like, 

"OMG, get this kid away from me!!!" 

(because we've all been in that situation, and it really blows.)

The lady who sat next to us asked Reese how old he was, and it went something like this:

Lady: How old are you?

Reese: I'm a "gully guppy"

[what he means by that is 'Bubble Guppy' and it's some kids' show on NickJr]

I interject here and say that he is three, because I'm sure the lady had no idea what he was talking about. She may have even wondered if he was speaking English, because he said it really fast. I'm not completely sure about that though.

Reese: I'm not 3 Mom, I'm #1!

Well okay then!!!! I love being #1 too, son!

Then of course, Reese danced around all night, high-fiving everyone when applicable, and even when not applicable. It was such a good time; we'll have to go back again soon. 

Whenever we left, it was snowing. 

For some odd reason I, Allison Boriack the number one hater-of-snow-ever, went full on Texan and was all, "OH MY GOD SNOW YAY!!!!!"

I really hope that it doesn't stick around though, no pun intended, because I don't want to be risking my life and/or future insurance premiums just to get to work.

B12

The other day I participated in that fun little activity everyone looks forward to called Jury Duty, and it was awesome. I know, I probably sound like a crazy person, that I'm not denying at this point. You may think I'm being sarcastic, and this is one of those rare occasions where I'm actually being 100% serious.

I was so excited when I got my summons in the mail. Jury Duty?! WHOOP!

Seriously, it was the same feeling one gets when they just found $20 in an old purse from 2005, only I wasn't $20 richer. Just super excited. 

I wanted to be picked so bad.

 Like I said before, I freaking love criminals and I just regular love cops, but there's one other thing I also love and that is justice. Jury Duty is the perfect time for all of those things, because there's cops all around and in Dallas County there are criminals FRESH out of jail hanging out on the steps of the Frank Crowley Courthouse.

(I'm not gonna lie; I talk a big game, but I seriously was freaking out when I was walking up those court room steps. Some of those people look SKETCH, and I'm not sure if being robbed and/or killed is a legit reason to get out of JD, and the last thing I need is a FTA warrant)

[for those of you who don't know crime jargon "FTA" stands for "failure to appear"]

If you haven't ever had the privilege of being summoned for JD, I'll let you know all about my experience and what you can look forward to if/when your time comes.

I am not even kidding ya'll, I took notes on my fellow jurors for the sole purpose of making this blog as accurate as possible. YOU'RE WELCOME!

 Don't worry, it didn't look creepy, it's not like I pulled out a pen and paper or started asking for people's names or anything.

 It is 2012, so I just looked like I was illegally texting, despite all the signs around that said, "Turn of your cell phone or ELSE". 

So you get there, and if you're anything like me you will be an hour early just because you are so excited to get it all started. I couldn't risk a traffic jam or a GPS fail; I was committed to my duty and I wanted to make sure that I didn't hurt my chances of being selected.

Then you wait, and you wait, and wait, and wait and then you wait some more.

You might be feeling like this:

But, you look at your watch (come on now, who has a watch these days?) you look at your phone and realize, oh-my-gaga it's only 9:48. I have been waiting for less than two hours. I have been waiting for one hour and eighteen minutes. If that's the case and you do feel that way, now would be a really good time to build a bridge and get over all that, because what is ahead for you? More waiting.

I brought a book to read, but I couldn't even bring myself to read it because there were so many great people watching opportunities that I absolutely couldn't pass up, and now I'm going to tell ya'll about a few 'friends' I met along the way.

Juror A sat two seats down from me, and by the way the A stands for "Asshole". She was also early, and knew everything there ever was to know about JD. 

Like she was some sort of JD expert, pah-lease. 

She was telling this other girl all about her experiences with Jury Duty.

 "Oh you have a high juror number? You'll be here all day" 

"I once got summoned for five days of Jury Duty right from the get go"

No you freaking didn't. So quit bragging already!

Juror B was the complainer. The B stands for "Boy-You-Never-Shut-Up!" 

She was a young gangster girl that obviously hasn't figured out the whole 'while I know that this situation sucks, there's nothing I can do to change it, so complaining isn't going to do anything about it' concept just yet. 

This is coming from someone who seriously complains all the time; just ask the people I sit next to at work. Whenever I have a headache, I don't take anything to make it go away. Why would I? Then I wouldn't be able to bitch about it. So the fact that her complaining got on my nerves is really saying a lot. I have heard in the past that JD has a lot to do with voter registration, and looking around this room at the potential-voters I was surrounded with really made me question our political future. 

Then homegirl was all, 'Oh I don't vote' loud and clear for everyone to hear.

Whew. We're not all totally doomed.

I had very minimal contact with Juror C. The C stands for "Chinese," and by minimal contact I mean none at all. I honestly didn't even see her face, but I did hear her lame-ass excuse to try and get out of JD.

"I can't read or write"

(this is one of the disqualifications of JD)

The jury-room-worker-lady was like, "Umm, can you read or write Chinese? Well that counts. So sit down"

Then she goes, "I have 12 kids."

Now that I think of it, I'm not sure if she said she had 12 kids, or if her kid was under 12, but that is irrelevant to the story. If you really want to get out of JD, just check the box saying that you have a kid. I promise that they won't check. Now, in the event something happens to you because you did that, don't go blaming me. I'm just telling you from my personal experience, because whenever I was summoned 3 years ago Reese had just been born and unfortunately I couldn't go.

Juror D was a special little gem, one that shared WAY more information with me than I ever wanted to know. By the way, yep, you guessed it... The D stands for Douche Bag. Man, you're good! I'm sitting in the waiting room on our Jury-Duty-Mandated-Break enjoying a banana I brought from home, and he approaches me. 

Him: "Did you get that downstairs?"

Me: "No, I brought it from home"

Him: "Dang! I left mine in my trunk."

Um... What? You left a banana in your trunk? 

There are a few things wrong with this picture.

Who the hell keeps fruit in their trunk? Are there dead bodies back there too, Casey Anthony? The last thing I want to think about is a banana in some dude's trunk, if you know what I mean. 

Juror D was in my assigned "juror group" so he is the one person I had the most contact with over the course of this experience. We get assigned to a court, and we go upstairs. We're standing next to each other, in a lobby filled with criminals and other prospective jurors, and he looks at me and goes,

Him: "A lot of these prosecutors look familiar"

[Why would you just say that?! Of course I want to know more! You really live up to your name, Juror D. You ARE a douche. It's not like I'm gonna be like, "Yeah they do." and just leave it at that.]

Me: "Really? Why?"

Him: "Well, I testified in a case a little over a year ago."

[Again, why? Not enough info, please keep going.]

Me: "Oh really? What happened?"

Him: "Well, it was aggravated sexual assault"

At this point, I'm like:

But of course, I still want to know more. How could I not?!

So I'm all: "WTF happened?"

And he's like, "Well, they attacked me first and then threw her in a van and had their way with her. They were pretty stupid though because they kept both mine and her cell phone so the cops could track them down."

Whoa, buddy. That's a little heavy for juror-talk; I don't know you, I don't even know your name, and honestly that's just a bit too much information. 

So I'm looking around, trying to get away from him at this point.

Please, don't get me wrong, it's not like I have a problem with the fact that he was a victim. That is a tragic situation, and I am glad that they were ultimately okay. The problem here was that he disclosed all this information to a complete stranger, and I wasn't about to stick around to see what else he had to say.

A seat opens up. PERFECT. I sit down, and wait and wait, and then I wait some more.

There are people having conversations across the lobby to each other, as if no one else is around. As if these marble floors and tile walls don't have a horrible echo, as if everyone cares about what they were talking about. Trust me, nobody cared.

At this point I have to pee SO bad. 

I'm talking like, if I were standing up, a pee-dance would have ensued.

 I don't want to get up, because what happens if they call us in and I'm not there? 

I want them to know that I am in this for the long haul. 

I am committed to my civic duties, and I am committed to justice.

Finally, we get called into the courtroom around 11AM.

 It was a DWI case, but the defendant reached a deal with the prosecution so there was no trial, and we ultimately were released to go home.

While I was let down, it was a good thing. 

Because if I hadn't been personally chosen, I totally would've taken that shit personally.

B11

Just a quick post to let you all know that I haven't forgotten about you!

I have been so super busy, with best friend weekend, sister dates, and of course playing catch-up to everything I neglected this weekend because I was busy on all my dates!

I know that ya'll haven't forgotten about me, I can't believe this, but my blog has already gotten almost 400 views!

And they can't all be me! WHEW! 

(The only reason I know this is because there are a lot of views from Android phones and PCs, none of which I own.)

That definitely makes me feel good, thanks guys!

RIP 

Tractor Fish Boriack

Sometime in early 2011-February 6ish, 2012

Last night my son's fish died. SAD!

I'm not really sure on the exact date of his passing, because I think he was still halfway alive when I, you know.

He really was the best fish ever, and he was even doglike in some ways.

Please, keep in mind that this is coming from someone who really does not love dogs,

or even like them for that matter. 

Anyway, he would wait every night for Reese to feed him, sort of wagging his tail like a dog and swimming around the top of the water. 

Only he didn't bark, he didn't smell, and he didn't jump on me, scratching my legs and ultimately ruining my day. Perfect!

The whole waiting-on-food thing could be because we only fed him once a day. 

How often are you supposed to feed a fish? Who knows, but I wouldn't go taking fish-caring advice from me at this point.

He was cute, I miss him already. I'm assuming that he is a boy, but it's not like I investigated his crime scene to see what was going on down there.

Whenever I had to flush him down the toilet, I really did feel a moment of sadness, 

along with a moment of "wow, that's disgusting" because I saw inside his gills, and all I can say about that is GROSS. Again, blood and guts are inside for a REASON!

Probably because he wasn't all the way dead, but I swear that little f-er halfway died and came back to life like three times in one year, and since I had already explained "tractor fish died" to Reese, I wasn't about to look like an idiot in front of my three year old.

"Oh he died, but then he changed his mind" wouldn't really work in that situation, or ever.

Explaining that "tractor fish died" was definitely an experience.

I was seriously racking my brain, thinking, how the hell am I going to explain death to my kid? 

Why did you have to die, Tractor Fish? What the hell were you thinking! I wasn't ready for all this just yet.

Then, as we're about to read our bedtime story, I just let it out. 

It actually kind of took me by surprise. The conversation went like this:

Me: Tractor Fish died.

Reese: *looks over at TF's bowl* He didn't die.

Me: Yes, Tractor Fish died, and we won't see him again. I'm sorry.

Reese: *looks at his toys* Kind of like my two fire trucks?

Me: Well, I don't know what you mean by that, but Tractor Fish's body stopped working. You know, kind of like your body, only it still works.

(at this point, I touched Reese's shoulder, to indicate that I was talking about 'his body')

Reese: My body is back here. *points to butt*

For some reason Reese thinks his "body" is his butthole.

 I'm not really sure why... But anyway, he took the news pretty well for a newbie. He looked somewhat confused at first, and I don't really think that he understood what I was saying, but I saved the toilet funeral for when he wasn't home. I definitely didn't want him to be like "I don't want to poop on Tractor Fish!" because he totally would.

Just like when he cried in the bathtub because we took all the water from Nemo.

 According to Reese, he wants to replace TF with a blue TF, which means we would switch from straight up goldfish to a beta type fish. Apparently with goldfish you have to make sure you are buying a particular kind of goldfish that can live in a bowl. Don't start laughing because Tractor Fish died, because he lived in that bowl for a very long time. If your kid wants a fish, don't buy a feeder fish, because you're setting yourself up for failure and a lot of tears. (If your kid is emotional, I don't know. Nor do I want to know.)

I'm glad that I could explain the whole "tractor fish keeled over because he sucks" to Reese, because it would have been impossible for me to find a replacement of Tractor Fish without Reese noticing. 

Because, of course, he picked the one grey and white spotted goldfish in the whole store.

So, the adventure goes on to find a replacement for Reese's pet. These types of things are very important at his age, because the other children at daycare have pets, and I don't want Reese to feel left out. Does that mean I will have a four legged creature roaming around my apartment anytime soon? NOPE! Off to the fish store we go...

B10

Being a girl is awesome.
 The benefits of being a girl far outweigh the neggies, unless I'm on my period and I will tell you something completely different.
My manfriend has been gone for a week now, and I am really missing him. 
I decided to start referring to him as my manfriend, because let's just be honest, calling someone who is practically a senior citizen your 'boyfriend' just sounds silly.
I'm just kidding. He's not practically a senior citizen, but he was born in the 70's, and to me that is hilarious. Okay, it was 1979, but still... funny.


Anyway, enough about his longevity and more about why being a girl is so awesome.
Besides the obvious like glitter, dresses, twirling, hot pink nail polish, not shaving my face, getting out of tickets and not having balls, being a girl definitely has its perks.
For example, going on dates even though you have a manfriend.
Things like sister dates, best friend dates, court dates, lunch dates.
Everything is a date. Can guys go on a best friend date? 
No, unless they're in Oak Lawn, and they're probably more than just best friends.


This weekend we're having a best friend weekend.
What's a best friend weekend you ask?
A best friend weekend is where we get together to do what we would normally do at home, only together; and we have back to back slumber parties two nights in a row. 
Yep, even though we're grown ups, and it's awesome and fun.
Can a guy do that? No, he can't have a slumber party with his guy friends. He can't even say the words "slumber party" and still retain his man card.
That's another thing. Do we have woman cards that can be revoked? Nope.
Then there's the sister dates, and that means hanging out with the sister, only with a fancy name. 
On these dates we go shopping, get pedicures, eat chocolate.
Can a guy do that with his brother? Well no, because even if he wanted to his brother would probably be like ...WTF bro?


To celebrate being a girl I wear earrings everyday, because if I don't I feel like I look like a boy. And one thing I don't want to do is ever look like a boy again.
This goes back to my childhood, when I looked like a boy my whole life until I was 13. 
People would seriously say, "is that a boy or a girl?" loud enough for me to hear.
Jerks!! How rude. It really hurt my little sensi-10 year old-feelings.
 As funny as that sounds, whenever I see a little girl that looks like a boy because of a horrible haircut their grandmother inflicted on them, I just want to give them a hug, and maybe a little baggy of glitter. Just to remind them that one day they will grow out of it, and totally not look like a boy anymore.

There's another added bonus on top of being a girl, and that is being pretty.
When you're pretty you can get free shit just because of the way you look.
I would say 85% of the time you can talk your way out of a ticket without even opening your mouth. 
It's a gift, don't be jeally.
 Another great thing about being a girl is the ability to do arts and crafts, and say things like 'arts and crafts' and not get looked at funny. 
One word: Pinterest.
When I see a guy on Pinterest, I think to myself, what are you doing on Pinterest?
You're a guy. ESPN.com is THAT way!
Glitter my keys? Glitter my shoes. Glitter on rings? Glitter in twos.
I love glitter. If I was a guy, I don't know how I would survive without it.
Some dudes love glitter/rhinestones just as much as I do; I mean take a look at those people on Jersey Shore.


Another thing I like about being a girl is the ability to shorten words and it be cute rather than not cute. Now that I say that though, it is pretty cute when some guys do it.
 But not all, and that is key here, because I can't think of one girl that couldn't get away with doing it and it not being cute.
Whatevies. Jeally. Kewlies. 
Oh you don't think that's cute? I'm sorry but you don't know what cute is.


I also love being a girl because I can do my hair so many different ways.
Curl it. Straighten it. Wear it wavy. Wear it down. Throw it in a pony tail.
Color it every three months to the point its completely fried? Good times!
Can guys do that? NO! They can't.
Don't even get me started on how much I love bobby pins.
I can paint my finger nails, paint my toes. 
I can even pay someone else to paint them, and they massage them too! 
Wear make up or not wear make up.
The possibilities are endless. What can a guy do? Not any of that, that's for sure!
Being a girl is freaking awesome. 


Now I must go, because the flats I ordered online just arrived, and one of the BEST parts of being a girl are some brand new super comfy flats. Especially if they involve glitter... And these soon will! Awesome!!! 

B9

I've been at home the past couple days caring for my sick little baby chunk.

Can we just talk about how much more exhausting staying at home with a child is then actually going to the office?

Because it totally is, and if you don't believe me, then I invite you to stay with a three year old for 48 hours straight. You might change your mind, and if you don't then you're probably just a big fat liar.

The naps are a nice break in the day, but after chasing around a festival of manic energy non-stop, they actually become more of a necessity than a perk.

Seriously, a big shout out to my stay at home moms because that is the hardest job anyone could possibly do.

The whole not commuting part was also pretty nice, and the whole not having to get ready was nice too.

I pretty much look like a homeless person today, but it's nothing that can't change before tomorrow.

Notice how I said "can't" rather than "won't"? 

Just kidding, I'll shower.

Our little breaky-break started out at the doctor's office bright and early Tuesday morning, complete with a pretty awesome parking spot. Win!

At this point in my child's life, I am still transitioning from babyhood to not-babyhood.

There are times when I look at Reese and I seriously am baffled by the child he has somehow morphed into over night. How did you get so big?!

Because I swear, just yesterday he was just being born. Where does the time go?

It's those, "Holy crap, you're really NOT a baby anymore!" moments that really take me by surprise. 

This doctor visit was one of those times.

We get to the doctor's office, and immediately he has to use the bathroom. 

This is not surprising, because as a newly potty-trained guy, he's all about checking out any and every bathroom he can.

He pees. We go into the room and wait for the doctor, and while we wait we look at some picture book, picking out the farm animals and what not. He farts.

 At this point the smell is so god awful in this tiny little room.

I mean honestly, how could something so rank come out of a 35 pound toddler?

That is something I'm still trying to figure out, but nonetheless it did.

 I pray silently that the doctor does not come in at this point, because Reese isn't in diapers anymore, so it's not like I have an immediate out in a situation like that.

 PLEASE, take your time coming into this tiny gas chamber, Doctor. I promise, we are not in a rush, and I will not talk shit about the fact you weren't on time.

The "I don't know what that smell is! I guess the baby crapped his pants again" excuse would not have worked without a baby, in a diaper, who could have possibly crapped his pants again.

After Reese proudly announces to me that he just farted, (as if I had no idea that it had happened) I ask if he had to go to the bathroom, AGAIN. He says yes, of course, so that is where we head. Luckily, the doctor was actually turning the corner on his way into the room while we were headed out. WHEW, crisis averted; at least now the door was open and there was time to air out a bit before we returned.

This must be a guy thing, or so I'm told, but Reese loves to point out the size of his poop.

 That sounds like this, "Mommy! Look how big my poop is!"

Whenever you're three, you really don't care what other people think. You don't think about innocent bystanders that may be hearing what you just shouted at the top of your three year old lungs... awkward.

We go back to the room that is now, thankfully, less of a death trap.

The doctor comes in, and Reese proudly tells him about the big dump he just took in the bathroom and that he washed his hands afterwards; he reiterates to the doctor that the poop, indeed, went into the toilet. The doctor actually played along in this conversation like it was not out of the ordinary to be talking with a three year old about bathroom activities, but I guess when you are a pediatrician it really isn't out of the ordinary.

We leave the doctors office with prescriptions, stickers, and suckers in hand.

For a sick kid, he is the smiley-est little kid ever, and his sunny disposition is just infectious. (No pun intended..hehe)

Of course, this is something that he inherited from me, because I too have been told that I have a sunny disposition as well as a pretty face. 

However, Reese's asthma? While the doctor, who used to be my pediatrician as well, asked me if I still use my inhaler... Which I don't by the way... the asthma didn't come from me, but we've already had this talk.

Even though being a temporary stay at home mom was tiring,

I am not looking forward to going back to work tomorrow.

I'll miss being with Reese all day, but luckily tomorrow is already Thursday, so just a couple more days until the weekend.